


Where the Legend Ends

by Zilentdreamer



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Community: smallfandombang, Dreams, F/M, Gen, Loss of Identity, Post-Canon, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilentdreamer/pseuds/Zilentdreamer
Summary: With Midna gone and the Twilight Mirror shattered, Link is left at loose ends. He returns to Ordon Village in order to pick up the pieces of his life, only to realize he is no longer the simple goat-herder content with the quiet life. Beset by new instincts and dreams that hint of battles he has no memory of fighting, the Chosen Hero must decide what he will do in a world that no longer needs to be saved.





	Where the Legend Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Small Fandom Big Bang 2018 and can I just say I am so proud of myself for finishing this. I've been sitting on this story for years until I finally got fed up with myself and decided to write it. It was touch and go there for a time, but I have prevailed!
> 
> I want to thank noxelementalist who did an amazing job with the fanmix and cover art. 
> 
> Currently un-beta'd but I'm hoping to have that fixed soon. :)

 

Link has never been good with words.

He never seems to say enough or put them in the right order. What goes on in his head and what he manages to force out between teeth and tongue never seem to match up the way he thinks they should.  He’s not simple, as he once overheard Pergie suggesting to her husband once they thought he was out of earshot. Jaggle had shot the suggestion down immediately, stating that Link was more clever than most he just didn’t like to wag his tongue.

Link doesn’t think of himself as especially clever, he just doesn’t have much to share. Not like the rest of the village. Experience has taught him sometimes he doesn’t even need to say anything.  Sometimes he can just look at someone, Malo for instance when he tries to climb up onto Epona’s saddle without permission, and it’s as if he had said something.

With the echoes of breaking glass loud in his ears and the fading chill of the Twilight Realm slipping into desert night, Link wishes that he was good with words.  Maybe if he’d been able to say the right thing Midna wouldn’t have destroyed the only chance they had of seeing each other again. If he’d been able to call out, yell for her to stop instead of gasping in surprise and desperate denial, maybe she would have listened.

Midna hadn’t been good with words either.  She’d said her goodbye, parting them forever in the gentlest way she knew how, sharp and fast enough that it takes several long seconds before Link realizes he’s been wounded at all.  

He wasn’t good with words but he knew how to listen.  Sometimes people just needed to be heard and Link was more than capable of offering them that, letting their worries and joys fill the silence he carried with him when he knows his words just aren’t enough.

It was Zelda that got him moving when he could have stared at the slab of stone and the long vanished gateway until the sun once more rose above the shattered pillars.  She was shivering and once he noticed he felt the cold himself. It was sharper than the chill from the Twilight Realm, lacking the dull bite of blunted magic that had filled the air and pooled in the shadows.  

Link gestures her forward and Zelda starts, pulled from her own deep contemplation of the stone slab.  She blinks at him and in that moment he can see the surprise and the subtle anguish lining her expression before it all smooths away.  She nods, “Yes of course, we do not want to linger here.” Zelda looks around at the broken pillars and Link wonders if she can feel it too, the way the air feels heavy in this place, carrying the echoes of a rage that would have destroyed Hyrule if it hadn’t been stopped.  “We should return to the others.”

He shadows her as she leads the way, content to follow the soft shush of her skirts through the stone halls, heavy with time and history long since turned to dust. His sword rests heavy in his hand.  There are no more monsters, he and Midna made sure of that the first time they swept through, but it serves to be cautious. It is a distant thought, foreign to who he used to be, that he almost hopes there is something he can hack and slash at.  

Link doesn’t think about biting through bone and shaking his head until everything shreds to pieces.

The soldiers that escorted them back to the Gerudo Desert were camped just outside the coliseum of the Arbiter’s Grounds, and one of the lookouts shouted in relief when he sees them emerge from the temple.

They are ushered into camp by the captain of the guard, from whose expression Link decides is already plotting how to get the princess out of the Gerudo Desert as quickly as possible. They are stuck for the time being, it would be foolish to travel in their numbers across the desert at night, not when strange creatures could rise up out of the sand at any moment.  Clearly following the same line of thought as Link, the captain instead makes sure Zelda is placed at the center of the camp near the fire.

It is tempting to stay on the edges of the camp where the firelight fades into the night filled with stars.  It is nothing like the half-light of the Twilight Realm, but it is as close as he is going to get. Midna made sure of that. He doesn’t understand why. It aches at him, her decision to irrevocably sever the ties between their worlds striking him like a physical blow. His head is ringing with it, spinning behind his eyes as he waits for the world to resettle once more into how it used to be.

He does not give into the impulse to hide amongst the shadows, as much as he wishes to.  Instead he joins Zelda by the fire. He is aware of the way some of the guards watch him, the weight of their appraisal makes the skin between his shoulder blades itch.  He ignores them, as he has been wont to do for the entirety of their journey back to the Arbiter’s Grounds.

They hadn’t known what to do with Midna either. With her bright hair and her exposed skin, twisting between dark and light, they had stared at her as well. She’d smiled at them, flashing sharp teeth that had seemed fierce in her imp form.  As a woman, it had been enough to make the guards find other places to be.

The fire dances and crackles in the growing chill as night falls heavy around them. Out of the corner of his eye he tracks the movements of the guards as they tend to their tasks, tending to their armor or rolling up into blankets to sleep until their turn to take watch.

“She must have thought it was too dangerous.”

When Link looks over Zelda is staring into the fire as well.  Her eyes catch the light of the dancing flames, shadows flickering over her face.  For a moment her eyes are the same when Ganondorf had possessed her. The memory makes Link’s belly contract and bile climb up his throat, remembering the way the corruption of his presence had marred her skin.  “She didn’t tell us.”

“No, but maybe she didn’t want to risk us arguing with her.”  Zelda shook her head, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around them.  It is a far cry from the aura of self-possession she has been maintaining from the moment they met in a tower shrouded by Twilight.  “If I had to guess, I would say Midna didn’t want to risk one of her people trying to follow in Zant’s footsteps.”

“Or someone from here making old mistakes all over again.” Link isn’t sure what makes him say it.  Lanayru’s vision comes to mind. The Twili had come from this realm, before being cursed into the darkness.  Perhaps it was something to keep in mind.

Zelda considers him.  “Yes, that as well.” She breathes a sigh and rested her chin on her knee. “It would have been a risk, but one I was willing to take.  Trust Midna to take the hard decision on her shoulders. She is a true princess.”

It is Link’s turn to consider the princess.  There was something there, something quiet and aching in her claim that Midna was the ‘true princess’.  “She wasn’t always.” When she raises her eyebrows at him Link just shrugs. “You remember what she was like, when she brought me to you the first time.”

Ripped out of his world and forced into a new, strange body, Link had been running on instinct when the little imp appeared.  Confused and reeling as he’d been, it hadn’t taken him long to realize that as savage and frightening as she seemed, he needed her. Her scent had been dark and sharp, cold ravines and the whip-crack of lightning in a cloudless night. The part of him that was the wolf saw a fellow predator, and wolves did not hunt alone.

“She was angry and ashamed.” Zelda mused out loud. “She had failed her people, as I had. At least she was able to do something about it.”

“We all had our parts to play.” Link says again, without thinking. He blinks as the words come unbidden and for a moment the weight of the Master Sword seems to grow heavier, enough to bow his shoulders and curve his spine.  He sucks in a breath and the sword is once more a thoughtless weight strapped across his back.

When he looks over the princess is studying him. “Yes, I suppose we did.” She tilted her head and her long hair spilled over her shoulder to fall into the cradle of her legs and arms. “Neither of us could have done it without you.  You saved both of our realms.”

Links looks away.  Hearing her say it out loud is jarring.  He couldn’t look at it that way, the picture was too big, too much for him to face even with Midna at his side every step of the way. It had been easier to take it one step at a time. Save the spirits, push back the Twilight Realm, find the Mirror shards, fight Zant.  

Stop Ganondorf.

“Ask anything of me, and I will do my best to grant your request.  It is the least I can do for you, Link.”

Link shakes his head. “I want for nothing.”  He hesitates, aware of the way the rest of the guards are listening and the sudden stillness that has spread through them after the princess’ offer. “Thank you, for your generosity.”

He is not expecting her laughter.  It is bright and warm, dancing like the fire before him. “After everything you’ve done and you won’t even let me bestow a gift on you? Surely there is something I can do for you.”

Link’s mind falls blank and he stares as if it will give him the answers the princess is looking for. He isn’t lying, he can think of nothing the princess can give him. What he wants is the calm surety that had come with having a path to walk, a goal to strive for even if it left him dancing on the edge of life and death. He wants to hear Midna’s laughter and the sharp prick of her nails through the heavy ruff of his fur.

“You do not have to answer me now.” Princess Zelda says, as if aware of his inner turmoil. She gets to her feet and immediately several guards start arranging her bedroll near the fire, laying down the thick mats and heavy blanket to shield her from the desert night’s chill. “Take the time to think on it, now that Hyrule has found peace once more. Know that my doors are always open to you.”  She offers him a slight bow and there is a flurry of movement as the rest of the guards follow suit.

Link can only stare, heart lurching thick and unsteady in his chest as the princess straightens. She smiles at him and after wishing him a quiet good night, retreats to her bed.  

When one of the guards offers him a bed as well Link waves him aside. Instead he stays up late into the night staring into the fire as it slowly dwindles.

*~*~*

Once they leave the Gerudo Desert, Link parts ways with the princess and her guards. She is not surprised by his decision, merely nodding and repeating her promise that there will always be a place for him in the castle, and that if he should require anything he need only send her a message.

Link still has nothing to say in response. The guards offer their own quiet goodbyes as Link departs, and it is with relief and regret that Link sets off alone.

The silence that settles around him is heavy, muffling the distant noises of life.  Even the soft clips of Epona’s hooves on the path sound far away. He does not realize he is waiting for a dry voice to prod him from his shadow until he wonders why Midna is being so quiet.

The realization has him jerking on the reins and Epona comes to a stop. Link stares at the thick fall of her mane as his heart pounds and his chest grows tight.  Fingers trembling around the reins he takes several deep breaths, reliving in his mind’s eye the memory of Ganondorf standing atop the rise, Midna’s crown crumbling to dust between his fingers. She’s alive, her curse vanquished beneath the combined might of the Spirits of Hyrule without Ganondorf’s malevolence to hold them back, she’s safe.

But she’s gone just as surely as if she had truly perished in the fight against Ganondorf.

Not even a goodbye. Just a few false words to replace the connection that may have started with fear, but had woven into something stronger with every battle they fought side by side.

It strikes him, perched on Epona’s back and twisting his fingers in the reins, that he does not recognize who he has become without Midna by his side.  Before the Twilight Realm descended upon Hyrule, he had just been Link of Ordan. A simple goat-herder with no great dreams, content with the quiet life the little village had promised. Then he became a wolf and took up a sword out of legend, the cursed Twilight Princess at his side as he fulfilled the destiny of the Chosen Hero.

What was he now?  Was he still the Chosen Hero now that the Twilight Realm had been vanquished and Hyrule restored?  Would he return to goat-herding and letting the village children haunt his footsteps as he taught them the basics of woodcraft?

Did he want to go back to that?

Did he have a choice?

*~*~*

It takes several days of travel to cross the breadth of Hyrule to reach Ordona Province. Sleep still does not come easy to him, but when he does manage to doze off with Epona grazing nearby, his dreams are filled with the desperate battles that carried him to and fro across Hyrule, and beyond. The weight of the sword in his hand, the ease with which he cleaved monsters in two, the sour taste of fear weighing on the back of his tongue, they filled his dreams until he felt the shadow of them even while awake.

Nothing attacks him and he wishes he were relieved.

On the last night Link does not stop until well after the sun has fallen. He only stops due to Epona planting her feet and refusing to move another inch, tossing her head with a snort when he tries to nudge her onwards. Taking the hint he slips from her back with a sigh and casts about for a suitable place to bed down.

He finds a small rise topped by a tree and places his back against it.  With no fire he doesn’t have to worry about being exposed, the tree’s branches will conceal him from anything flying overhead, and from a distance his legs will easily be dismissed as the trees roots.

Epona flicks her tail and munches on several large clumps of grass as Link makes himself comfortable.

On impulse he slides the Master Sword off his back and sets it across his lap, his hand curled loose around the hilt. It is warm in his grip, has been from the moment he pulled it out of the pedestal back in the Sacred Grove. When he first touched it the pommel had been just shy of searing, a flash of pain and heat before dimming to the low warmth of skin warmed metal. Checking his hand had shown only the familiar lines and grooves of his palm.

It was not an ordinary blade, the blast of power that had rattled the temple had proven that. He traced the spread wings of the cross-guard, fingertips passing over the glittering topaz that formed the heart between them. It was a strange color, the cross-guard. Bright purple and he doesn’t recognize what it’s fashioned from. His eyes tell him metal, but his fingers tell a different story. There is something strange about the gem in the center as well, too many facets compared to the rupees and precious stones he has handled since starting his quest.

The Master Sword. A heavy name for a single blade. The princess had said it was once held by the Legendary Hero. Link touches the image of the Tri-Force where it had been etched deep into the blade. He feels a slight zip of something against his fingers and writes it off as his imagination. With the weight of the blade across his lap and sleep slowly creeping up on him once more, he wonders how many heroes have wielded this blade in defense of Hyrule.

He dreams.

_Crimson wings carry him through the sky, the familiar weight of the Master Sword in his hand. Beneath him is a sea of bodies, claws reaching and grasping, savage teeth snarling up at him as he soars far out of reach -_

_A sword in the shape of a man darts towards him, black eyes polished as any blade and twice as hungry for blood.  The gem on his forehead gleams and red power spills across his skin in jagged cracks -_

_The dragon surges out of the ground in a splash of lava and searing heat. He gasps through the sulfur stench and twists to narrowly dodge the claws that would have gutted him. Gritting his teeth he shifts his grip on the sword and swings around and down, crushing the dragon’s head into the stone beneath -_

_Beneath his feet the boat rocks back and forth, at the mercy of the storm whipped seas. Struggling to stay balanced amidst the tossing and falling he keeps one hand clenched around the hilt of his sword and tries to shield his eyes with the other. He can almost see the island -_

Link lurches to his feet with a shout, sword in hand and heart racing. He spins in place as he searches for the enemy, there was danger he could sense it, but there is nothing. Just the same still quiet that has followed him in the hollow silence after the Mirror of Twilight shattered.

The silence of absence.

This time there is no Midna to soothe away the nightmares with sharp digs and back-handed compliments, her yellow-red eyes watching him beneath the heavy weight of her crown. Link slumps back against the tree, still clutching the Master Sword. Epona stands nearby, one hip cocked as she dozes on her feet.

He does not know what to do. It is too dangerous to travel at night, even with the Twilight Realm banished Hyrule is not without its dangers, and yet Link knows he will not be able to sleep. He feels trapped, wanting desperately to do something and knowing there is nothing he can do. The glint of the Master Sword gives him a thought and choosing a space relatively free from bushes and stones, he works through the pattern dance the Hero’s Shade had taught him.

Only a few steps into the dance and Link jerks to a stop, hefting the Master Sword to eye it warily. Always the blade has felt...not alive, but present within his hand. Now it feels almost inert, as if he were carrying the sword he’d originally been tasked to gift to the Royal Family. Some vital part of it has gone quiet and still. As if recognizing that the danger was past and it was no longer needed.

Link’s hand tightened on the hilt. Like he was no longer needed, if he chose to stretch the comparison that far. It is a thought that does not sit well with him and he returns to the pattern dance, needing the familiar motions and the stretch of stiff muscles more than acknowledging the quiescent Master Sword.

*~*~*

Link rides into Ordan Village mid-morning.

It is quiet with the previous night’s chill being eased away by the morning sun, light cutting through the surrounding trees. The river is chuckling along, pushing the ever moving water wheel with its familiar groans and squeaks. Beneath the steady clop of Epona’s hooves there is the distant trill of birdsong and Link imagines he can hear the goats down from the ranch as well, grunting and baa’ing at one another. He looks at Sera’s shop and Mayor Bo’s house, the giant tree infested with bees looming overhead.

It’s not as if he’s been gone all that long, he’s returned several times in the course of his quest, but there is a finality to his arrival this time. Hyrule has been saved, he does not need to leave again. This time he is here to stay.

It’s good to be home.

There’s a shout and Link flinches, hand twitching towards his sword before he conquers the impulse. Hanch, once more perched on the rise overlooking the river has spotted him. “Link has returned!  Everyone, Link is back!”

Morre shouts are soon to follow and Link can’t help his grin as Beth tumbles out of her mother’s store, Malo and Talo hard on her heels. Across the village Collin and Rusl appear, Uli close behind with a baby in her arms.

Link slides out of the saddle just in time for Talo and Beth to plow into him, each hugging him tight.

“Link! You’re okay!” Beth exclaims.

“Of course he’s okay, he’s Link!” Talo retorts. The two of them glare at one another, neither eager to relinquish their hold on him.

Standing at a distance Malo rolls his eyes. “Welcome back, Link.”

“Okay give him some room, you two.” Both children step back under the weight of Rusl’s disapproval. Once they are out of the way he reaches out with a warm smile and Link returns the hand-clasp with a smile of his own. “You’ve been busy,” Rusl says. “Glad you made it back.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you and the others,” Link admits. Without them he might have been able to clear the castle, but he’s glad he didn’t have to find out.

Rusl releases their hand clasp and lets his hand rest on Collin’s shoulder, who is standing at his father’s side and staring at Link with quiet reserve. “It was the least we could do. We weren’t going to sit back and let you have all the glory.”

No longer content with being ignored both Talo and Beth start to bombard Link with questions. “Where were you - “ “What were you doing-” “Did you really see the princess-” “Can I see your sword -”

Link laughs a little helplessly, holding up his hands to ward them off. “I can’t answer everything at once.” Not that he is sure how to answer some of their questions.

“It looks like someone has been pushing Epona too hard again.” Startled, Link spins around with a smile and sees Ilia standing next to Epona’s head, one hand smoothing up and down her muzzle. She smiles at Link, taking the sting out of her words. “I’m glad you’re back, Link.”

“It’s good to be back,” he says, meaning it with his whole heart. Everyone is home safe and sound, where they belong.

When Link feels a tug on his hand he looks down to see Collin, staring up at him with solemn eyes. “Are you going to leave again, Link?”

Link gently lays his hand on Collin’s head, his hair smooth and warm from the sun, he must have been practicing his sword work considering the small wooden sword strapped to his back. “There is nowhere else I would rather be.” He looks around at the others. “It’s good to be home.”

Beth, Talo, and Malo start throwing more questions at him, asking what he was doing and where did he get that sword, why was he gone for so long and did he know they’d just gotten back from Kakariko village as well.  Link doesn’t know where to start answering and something of it must show on his face.

This time its Uli who comes to his rescue. “Alright lets give him some space. Link just got back from a long journey so let him get settled in and you can visit with him. Tomorrow,” she adds when the terrible trio start to look mutinous. “I’m sure all of you still have chores that need to be finished.” She stares at them with eyebrows raised until they begin to trudge back towards their homes, Talo throwing glum looks over his shoulder. “I’m glad to see you back safe and sound,” Uli says to Link, one hand resting on her baby’s back where the little one is strapped to her chest.

“Congratulations, Uli, Rusl,” Link says, his throat growing tight as he stares at the small bundle. It strikes him hard between the ribs what might have happened to the baby if he hadn’t been able to stop Ganondorf and Zant. Trapped as a spirit, the newborn would never have been able to experience life or grow to love Rusl and Uli and Collin. So much potential would have simply vanished, snuffed out without any chance to grow.

“Her name is Jina.” Uli laughs. “She was quite impatient to be born. I guess she decided she wanted to welcome her father and brother home herself.”

Rusl presses a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner, darling.” Collin echoes the sentiment by reaching up to touch his sister’s back.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you got back as soon as you could.” Coming back to herself Uli chuckles. “Look at us we’re as bad as those three. Link, I know you probably don’t have anything to eat back at your house and Sera and I weren’t sure what we could leave for you without fear of it spoiling.  Now that you’re back we’ll bring some fresh supplies over as soon as we can.” She doesn’t wait for Link to find the word to object. Instead she hustles her family back towards their home with promises of having him over for dinner tomorrow if he’s up to it.

“It hasn’t been the same without you,” Ilia says into the quiet that has settled around them. She doesn’t look at him, instead focuses on combing the front of Epona’s mane. Epona eventually shakes her head to dislodge Ilia’s soothing touch. Ilia’s expression doesn’t dim as Link expects, she’d always been sensitive to Epona’s preference for Link. Instead a small smile curls into the corners of her mouth. “At least she hasn’t changed.”

Link isn’t sure what to make of the look she flicks at him. Her gaze carries a weight that Link does not expect. He knows she has changed since her abduction and the loss and subsequent return of her memories. The silence between them stretches and Link fidgets as the dissonance between what was and what is abruptly grows stronger. He used to know what her silences meant but now he must once again confront how useless words are for him.

“Rusl brought word of what you did, for the Princess and for Hyrule.” Link stiffens and meets the weight of her gaze out of instinct. He doesn’t know what it means that she is the first to look away, eyes lowering before darting away. “I’m glad you are safe and my father will want to speak to you, once you are settled.”  She presses her lips thin as if she has more to say and is biting back the words. Eventually she shakes her head and offers him another soft smile, and it is almost the same as the way she used to smile. “Let’s get you home, Link. You need the rest, I think.”

She catches Epona’s reins and starts to lead her back the way he came. It hadn’t occurred to him to stop at his small clearing and check his house, but had continued into Ordon Village without question. He’d needed to know that everyone had made it back safe, that his home was once more the quiet, peaceful place it had been before it had nearly been savaged by Ganondorf and Zant’s machinations.

They walk on either side of Epona and nothing is said. Link sneaks several looks at Ilia but there is no sign of the brooding expression she used to wear when silence fell between them. Always a youth of few words, Ilia has never wavered to fill the silence that tended to follow him. Until now at least, but this silence feels like a prelude to whatever she bit back before.

At the sight of his small clearing Link feels an unnoticed tension slide off his shoulders. He is home, for good this time instead of stopping by before starting the next impossible task. Heading for the house and wondering how much of a mess he has to clean up it takes him a few seconds to realize that Ilia isn’t following him.  When he turns she is still standing near the entrance to the clearing, holding Epona’s reins.

Ilia gives him a look and Link can’t suppress a grin as he flashes back to the last time she’d looked at him like that. “I wasn’t joking about you abusing poor Epona. You’ll push her until she collapses, and she’ll run until you fall off.  The two of you are as bad as each other.” She tugs on the reins and Epona doesn’t resist, instead nickering in approval as they start walking towards the Spring. “I’ll give her a dip in the Spring. You can start looking the place over. Uli and Sera did what they could to keep it clean, but I’m sure some things were moved around in the attempt.”

Still grinning, Link stares after girl and horse as they disappear around the bend. At least some things managed to remain the same.

*~*~*

The village ends up throwing an impromptu party to celebrate everyone’s return. Uli, Sera, and Ilia spend the whole day before baking and passing through the village towards the ranch has Link’s mouth watering and his stomach grumbling.  After weeks of rations and snagging whatever edible thing he could while traveling, he can’t wait to get his hands on some of Uli’s sweet buns.

Fado is overjoyed to see him, but there is an awkward moment where he tries to tell Link that he doesn’t need to watch the goats anymore, that surely the hero of Hyrule has more important things to do. Link can only stare at him at first. He’s wearing the tunic he’d purchased to go under his leathers and left the Master Sword in his house, hidden in the upstairs loft because he didn’t trust Talo for a second not to sneak into his house to get a closer look if the opportunity presented itself. He doesn’t have any of the weapons he’d collected and it had taken him several minutes after leaving them all behind to figure out why he was feeling so jumpy.

But he’s Link of Ordon Village and he’s home now, the heroics are over, and when he says that to Fado the other man blinks at him then shrugs. He says probably just as well seeing as how the goats had been missing him something awful. So Link spends the day herding goats and if it’s easier than it ever was before, Link remembers staring at them through the paddock walls as a wolf and the way they’d shied away, as if he were the true predator their senses were warning them about. They snort and stamp at first when he approaches them, but soon they seem to understand that as long as they go where he wants them, he’ll leave them alone.

Fado is confused and overjoyed by Link’s new talent with the goats, shaking his head in awe.

By the time the sun begins to set and the goats are once more secured in the barn for the night, Link starts back for the village, feeling strangely restless and almost uneasy. It lessens somewhat once he gets to the village and sees that the festivities are just beginning. A long table has been laid out along the path through the village, the only space big enough to hold it, and even with its size it is close to collapsing beneath the weight of all the food spread out across it.

Jaggle and Ilia play music, Jaggle with a mandolin that he’d had for as long as Link could remember and Ilia using the horse grass that Link used to call Epona. It leaves his chest feeling too tight to breathe as she plays, the notes high and sweet with the mandolin. Eventually they are encouraged to put their instruments aside to take part in the feast, which is just as well since Link bets the whole village couldn’t put away this much food given a week.

There are Uli’s famous meat pies, filled with potatoes and small round onions and goat cheese, all baked in a golden flaky crust. Carrots glazed with honey and a sharp spice, a thick pumpkin soup with every taste carrying hints of nutmeg and cinnamon. A cool ale with a nutty undertaste that leaves all the sharp edges Link didn’t realize he had slightly softer, not quite so wary.

He eats until he can’t manage another bite, and then sits and basks in the fading light and the blend of several different conversations weaving together. Talo doesn’t try to pester him with too many questions, not after the second time he is warned away by Pergie. It’s not that Link minds exactly, he just doesn’t know what to say in response to the things Talo wants to know.

So many things have happened and Link is still struggling to catch up. He was a simple goat herder and then he was the Chosen Hero, and now he is the Savior of Hyrule. With Midna vanished back to her realm and Zelda once more returned to the throne, all the danger of the Twilight Realm forever sealed away, he does not know what that means for him. Surely he can go back to being the simple goat herder, this time with interesting stories to tell. Once he figures out how to tell them. It would help if he could find the right words.

Eventually Mayor Bo stands from his position at the head of the table and clears his throat loudly enough to gather everyone’s attention. Link watches with amusement as it takes several attempts to draw the rest of the villager’s attention from their food and stories. Once he is satisfied, Mayor Bo raises his glass, “Tonight we celebrate the return of our children and the brave acts of our own. To the return of the children,” he says again, lifting his glass high before taking a long pull from the glass.  He is echoed by the rest of the villagers, drinking deep from their ale, or water. “To the brave acts of Link and Rusl. Without them, we would have lost our greatest treasures.” There is a murmur of agreement from the rest of the villagers and Link can’t control the flush that spills across his cheeks as he is nudged and given several back-slaps from Jaggle and Fado. “To Link and Rusl,” Mayor Bo said, once again raising his glass.

Nearby, Rusl took a long drink of his glass and set it down with a solid thunk. “To Link!” he yells, to the encouragement of the rest. “If anymore monsters darken our door step I’ll just leave them to him, see if I don’t.”

There are more cheers and Link gets a few more back-slaps and broad smiles. Link sets his drink down before he spills it. Nearby he can hear Hanch telling Fado, “You should have seen the size of the beast, biggest wolf I’ve ever seen. I managed to drive it away with my hawk but you just wait, that monster will be back any day now and I’ll be ready for it.”

The warm night develops a sudden chill. Link chafes at his arms, trying not to linger on Hanch’s declaration. It wasn’t like he knew that the wolf he’d driven away was Link himself, if he knew, well, Link wasn’t sure how Hanch or the others would react if they knew what he’d been able to turn into. It wasn’t like he could turn into a wolf anymore. Even if he could, there wouldn’t be any point to it anymore. It had been necessary before, traveling through the Twilight Realms. Now it would serve no purpose and just frighten anyone who saw him.

Mayor Bo’s toasts start a trend and soon everyone is taking turns making toasts to the village’s health and safety, promises to fight anymore monsters that show their face in the area, and blessing the Royal Family.

“You saw the Princess, right Link?” Rusl asks abruptly.  He’s leaning back in his chair with an arm around Uli’s shoulders and a now sleepy Collin slumped against his side.

Link blinks at Rusl in surprise, wondering what exactly Rusl has told the others. He flicks a look at Mayor Bo and sees Ilia is staring back at him.  She raises her brows as if to encourage him to answer Rusl’s question.

Down at the end of the table Beth props her elbows on the table to lean over and say, “Oh Link, did you really see the princess?  What was she like?”

Link struggles to find the right answer. “Princess Zelda was very...kind. A good ruler who cares about her people.”  He can’t help but remember another princess devoted to her people, who’d been fierce and cunning and _royal_ as imp and woman.

“What did she look like?” Beth pressed, leaning over so far she almost falls into the nearby tureen of pumpkin soup. Sera has to yank her backwards when the dish starts to tilt and spill soup on the table.  

The words slip just out of reach and Link is tempted to shrug if he didn’t know it would only prolong his suffering. “The princess was quite beautiful. It was an honor to be able to fight beside her.”  There is a rush of silence as the villagers actually hear what he is saying, and then there is a new flurry of questions, this time not just from the children.

Link struggles to answer as best he can, but there is so much he does not know how to describe. There is another world out there that is faded light and eerie singing, but they are not evil, regardless of their origins. He has faced the dark past of Hyrule with legendary sword and the shape of a wolf, delving into this land’s secrets and he carries them still.

Everything that comes to mind does not belong here in the camaraderie and joy of his village reunited at last, the shadows of the twisted Twilight Realm cast aside for sunlight and laughter.

“There was a man,” Link finally manages.  Beneath the table his hands curl into the thick fabric of his trousers. “He hated Hyrule enough to try and destroy it. It took a while, but the princess and I managed to -- stop him.”

Link takes a sip of the ale to wet his dry mouth. He doesn’t look at Rusl who will understand Link’s hesitation. He killed a man who was determined to destroy his home and land, Link feels no guilt for that. What makes him uneasy is the rage that had seized him upon seeing Midna’s stone crown crumble from Ganondorf’s fingers. It had been bright and all-consuming, each breath a struggle when every fiber of his being wanted to rip and shred and destroy utterly.  

It stuck with him during the frantic chase on Epona’s back, the princess a warm and determined weight at his back as she shaped Light into a weapon. When Link was finally able to cross swords with the source of the corruption that had thought to twist two kingdoms into ruin, it had burned him from the inside out.

When he’d knocked Ganondorf to the ground for the last time, it hadn’t occurred to him to stop, that he was about to strike at someone who was, in that moment, defenseless. Sprawled out on his back, dazed from the force of the blow, Ganondorf had been no threat. Link’s rage had carried him high into the air and it had been with a vicious satisfaction that he drove the Master Sword through Ganondorf’s chest.

The impact of the sword driving home had shuddered through him.  Without thinking he had aimed for the white, cracked scar that lingered from the Sage’s attempt to execute him. Where the Sage’s had failed Link knew down to his bones that he would not. As the sword entered flesh and pierced the spine, for a moment that lasted the space of a breath, Link had been satisfied.

Link looks at the rest of the villagers seated around the table, their faces bright and happy beneath the scattered torchlight, and doesn’t even try to find the right words.  There are none, and this above all else he does not want to share.

“The princess thanked me personally,” Link says, earning exclamations from the rest of the villagers.

Talo ends up standing on his seat so he can lean over and ask, “We saw you at Kakariko Village, but where else did you go? You have to tell us!”

Pergie glares her eldest son back into his seat. “Show some respect, Talo. You ask, you do not demand.”

Link can only smile, warmed rather than irritated by Talo’s familiar antics. “It’s alright, Pergie.”

This he does have words for, and does his best to share what he can. How he journeyed into the heart of Death Mountain as requested by the Goron Elders and describes how the air was thick and hot, stinking of sulfur. He tells them about the glorious palace seated at the top of Zora’s River, Zora’s Domain, where the Zora make their home with graceful columns and pools of water clear as glass. It doesn’t escape his notice how Ilia seems to lean forward, intent on every word. He wonders if she is still in contact with Prince Ralis.

He goes on to tell them about Snowpeak and the strange but very much in love Yeti couple who made the abandoned manor their home. His listeners fall into stunned silence when he proceeds to tell them about the City in the Sky where the remains of the Oocca continue to live in isolation.

At this point Rusl laughs and mutters under his breath, “Shad is going to be unbearable now.”

Remembering the scholar’s enthusiasm, Link wonders if Shad is still in Kakariko. He could write up everything he remembers about the City in the Sky and the Oocca for him, it was the least he could do considering Shad’s earlier help in discovering the city in the first place. Although he doesn’t think Shad will appreciate the same method of travel that Link had used.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversations and still more food. No one else peppers him with questions and he bets he can thank Pergie and Uli for that, both of them declaring that Link has answered more than enough questions and there will be plenty of more time for stories later.

By the time the party is over and they’ve begun picking up, Link is half asleep on his feet and ends up being shooed away by Ilia. “Go to bed,” she says, urging him on with a light push between his shoulder blades. “Heroes of Hyrule don’t need to clean up, silly. Get some rest, I bet you’re still tired. I know I was my first few nights back.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you, Ilia.” The words spill out of him without thought, his head fuzzy from the ale and the general sense of exhaustion that has lain over him ever since his return. Ilia was right about that. “I’m glad you made it back safe.”

Ilia looks at him with a frown, hands on her hips as she considers her response and Link feels a strong wave of affection overcome him. She’s more reserved and there is something in her eyes now, something older and tempered from the young girl she used to be, but Link think’s that’s just as well since every time he looks at his reflection now he doesn’t recognize the young man staring back.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ilia says, not bothering to conceal her exasperation with him. Link smiles, pleased to see that has not changed as well. “There was nothing you could do against the Bulblins, but you went after me -- after all of us,” she corrects. “You found me and helped me remember who I was. That’s more than enough, don’t you think?”

No, it was not enough, but Link knows better than to say that out loud.  

*~*~*

Link tries to settle back into Ordon Village. He continues to work at the ranch and herd the goats, enjoying the peace and quiet that has returned with Ganondorf’s demise. He rides Epona down the narrow trails and only slides off her back when it is time to hunt. His footsteps have never been lighter as he navigates the underbrush, his bow held in a loose grip with one arrow nocked and ready. Now he can hear the small game moving through the trees and surrounding bushes, soft chitters and the scrabble of tiny claws in the bark. He rarely misses and it only ever takes the one arrow to bring down his prey.  

Sometimes when he hunts his skin feels too tight, prickling and twitching as if to keep something contained. At its worst he stands stock still and takes deep, careful breaths until the longing for heavy fur and the swiftness only four paws can bring finally eases into something he can manage. There is no going back, he is no longer the wolf. He is no longer the Chosen Hero, companion to the Twilight Princess.  He is Link of Ordon Village.

As if to taunt him every night he dreams.

His dreams are a blend of memories and...something else. He relives the battles that carried him across Hyrule, the endless grind of desperation and refusal to give way, but in the dreams Midna is gone. He is alone, as wolf and as a man, racing through the Twilight Realm and delving into the waters of Lake Hylia and this time there is no imp hiding in his shadows. He is always struck down with no one to guard his back, Midna’s absence a wound all on its own, and when he falls the dreams always shift to strange, foreign places he has never seen.

An endless sea and a massive fortress where Ganon waits for him, a twisted shadow that hurls magic until Link is gasping and terrified, lashing out wildly with his sword until he strikes the magic head on and ends up hurling it back with a snapping crackle.  

Knee deep in a swamp a pulsing, oozing mass looms overhead, its many eyes whirling and twisting in its horrific body. Over and over Link falls until at last he is able to duck beneath his cape and once shielded from the many eyes, he is able to turn upon the creature in a crazed dance of blade and fury.

Every night he fights and no matter the form he takes, oh how he misses the form of the wolf, there is never a disconnect. He was never taught the sword beyond those misty lessons with the Hero’s Shade, but in his dreams he is a true swordsman, honed to a fine edge as deadly as the blade he always carries.  It is always the Master Sword, in every nightmare that seizes him until he can can smell the gore and the acid sharp tang of magic spent hanging heavy in the air when he finally lurches away, he is always carrying the Master Sword.

It is with him in his dreams and he carries it into the nightmares that always follow.  When he wakes it is placed on the wall overhead, well out of reach of eager child’s fingers. He knows the Master Sword better than any of the tools he crafted with his own hands and it is always there, waiting for him, a promise and a threat of what is coming and what will be faced, the physical representation of the weapon that Link has been forged into.

In his dreams he knows this, all his battles paired down to the fight against evil, all different except for where they are all the same. When he wakes, a slow rise from sleep as the memory of staring out of the beast’s eyes slips away, or lurching up in a cold sweat as his empty hand reaches for the sword he never keeps within reach, there is always a moment when the ‘knowing’ lingers and Link feels not at peace, but content.

It never lasts and by the time he has risen the dreams and nightmares have faded into soft memories or desperate clawing images that continue to haunt him into the waking world.

Link fights it as best he can, swallowing around the words that he can never seem to say and living each day in peace, reaching for contentment with both hands and refusing to let it evade him. He is Link of Ordon Village, the goat herder who gets lost in daydreams and spends far too many hours staring at the sky.

It is not to be.

*~*~*

Mayor Bo starts waylaying him on his way to and from the ranch. He starts asking questions about the rest of the provinces and the different villages, what they’d been like, what kind of shops they’d had. He talks about how Sera has been after him to bring in new stuff that she can sell at her shop, rubs the back of his neck and mutters about how young Malo has apparently been explaining how she needs to expand.  

“You’ve seen the world out there, Link, and I don’t want Ordon Village to get left behind.”  Mayor Bo rubs his hands together and nods towards the rest of the village where it sprawls out around them. “If it weren’t for you our little village might have been lost forever. We’re small, nothing wrong with that, but we’re too isolated out here. You showed me that.”  

Link takes the friendly slap on the shoulder with barely a twitch and as he watches Mayor Bo walk back into his house, muttering about his plans for the future and how he’ll have to send old Renado a message, Link stares after him.

Sera starts calling him into her store to check out the new merchandise she’s decided to start selling. Clear, thick bottles of fresh bottled goat’s milk and large rounds of goat’s cheese that she is planning to send to Hyrule Castle Town.  “The princess herself won’t have tasted better cheese,” Sera boasts, offering Link another slice.

She starts to carry arrows for the bow that Link is never without now. His earlier attempts to leave all of his weapons at home left him twitchy and irritable, which tended to make the goats too skittish to even leave the barn nonetheless graze around the paddock. So the bow it was since he refused to carry the Master Sword.

Link is not allowed to pay. “No,” Sera tells him with an amused smile and shake of her head when Link tries to hand her the rupees to cover the cost of the arrows. “I won’t take money from the Hero of Hyrule, see if I do. Anything in my store is yours if you need it.” She looks down and reaches out to scratch down the spine of her cat, Twig, who is crouched on the counter drinking his afternoon snack of fresh goat’s milk. “Without you I would never have seen my Beth again. It’s the least I can do.”

His arguments going unheard, Link leaves the store. Again the words don’t come, his assurances that Rusl would have eventually found the children, that he didn’t deserve this kind of special treatment. He has a thought that passes through him, strange and not quite right, as if the dreams that filled his nights manifested behind his eyes in spite of the daylight that spears through the trees high overhead.

 _He just did what he was always meant to do_.  

*~*~*

Fado is hauling out the hay bales when Link canters up on Epona. Link slides off her back and returns Fado’s greeting with a wave. There is a brief moment where Fado’s gaze lingers on the bow and quiver that Link has insisted on carrying since his return. Normally he doesn’t comment, but this morning he clears his throat, “You think trouble is gonna come our way, Link?”

Link’s fingers tighten around the grip of the bow as he searches for the right words. Midna always knew what to say, he thinks, with her sharp eyes and clever tongue. He doesn’t know what she had been like before the curse made her small and vulnerable, but he imagines the Midna he’d gotten to know was the one she’d created, pulling herself together piece by piece. Her armor the leering grins and cruel laughter, her weapon the wolf she tamed with promises twined around threats.

Maybe he was supposed to do the same thing now, pull himself together until he can find a new Link of Ordon.

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Link finally says, after the silence has stretched long enough to leave Fado fidgeting.

After the hay bales are set up Link and Fado work together to look each of the goats over, checking for signs of infection in their ears, eyes, hooves. Once one goat gets it the entire herd will be at risk, so each of the goats are checked over with extreme care, the two of them sliding their fingers through the thick fur to check for lumps or lesions on the skin. Link has the chance to examine one of the doe’s who was recently bred. She doesn’t show much sign of her growing pregnancy, but she doesn’t object to the small handful of oats he offers once she’s done.

Her nostrils flare as she sniffs him, but the lure of the oats is too strong for her to start getting twitchy over his presence now. Once she’s done eating her snack she trundles off after the rest of the herd and by then she is the last. Fado sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “We’re going to have to start separating the does and bucks soon.”

Link nods. The village had only so many resources and it was easier if they kept the herd at a manageable size.  Allowing only some of the goats to breed kept them from being overrun with kids.

It is a normal day on the ranch and Link falls into the normalcy of it with real enthusiasm.  He helps to clean the barn and lays out more grain. The grass they normally graze on in the paddock and in the nearby meadow is normally a meal in of itself, but it doesn’t hurt to give them a little extra.  Fado had once said it was an incentive to come back.

The day passes and soon Link is clicking his tongue as he guides Epona through the familiar dance of herding goats that are more than happy to stay outside, and some even try to insist. With the especially stubborn goats thwarted, he does not resort to the Goron method no matter how tempting the thought, Fado bolts the barn door shut once the last of the goats thunders through.

“Well, that’s it for today. I figure we’ll put up the fencing to separate them tomorrow, before the other does go into heat. We’ll have a chance of keeping things under control if we move early.” Link expects Fado to give Epona the customary pat on the shoulder and send them on their way, when Fado hesitates. “Hey Link, you’re okay right?”

Once a Bokoblin had managed to take him by surprise and it was only Midna’s cry of warning that had given enough time to twist and take the club’s blow on his shoulder rather than his head. The blow felt as if it reverberated through his bones, shock cushioning him for a bare few seconds before the pain flowed in its wake.

Hearing Fado ask him if he is okay brings that feeling of shock to mind, the blunt surprise before the pain of the wound makes itself known. Link blinks at Fado, feeling the words slip away. “I don’t understand?” he manages to ask.

Fado clears his throat, looking just as confused and uncomfortable as Link feels. He resolutely looks toward the barn, where the goats’ bawling is easily heard through the thin wooden walls. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately,” Fado suddenly grins down at Link. “More than usual anyway.” The smile fades as quickly as it had appeared. “I don’t know much about everything that has happened. I know something terrible was happening out there,” he waves his hand to indicate the world beyond Ordon Village. “I know the kids, the human ones,” Fado flushes but keeps going, “they were stolen right out of the village by monsters and you went missing right after. When you do show up you look different and say the children are safe in Kakariko Village, which is clear across Eldin Province.”

Link swallows hard, surprised and unsettled by Fado’s rising vehemence.

Fado notices Link’s unease and takes a step back. “Crazy things happened, is what I’m saying, and you seemed to be right in the thick of it. Running in and out of the village doing spirit knows what. And now that whatever you were doing is over, I can’t help but notice you’ve been acting different.” Fado immediately raises his hands as if to ward off Link’s potential anger. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just think you’ve changed and it’s fine but I figured I could ask you know? Just in case.”

Outwardly calm, inside Link is reeling. He knew, he knew, that he wasn’t the same boy who had chased after the village children and been dragged into another realm as consequence. He knows the weight of a sword - the sword - in his hand, has been blooded in battle against creatures that still haunt his nightmares. He was a wolf and destroyed his enemies with fang and claw, tasted their blood on his tongue and felt the warm heat of it stain his fur.

He was abandoned by the woman who had stood by him through every battle, his wolf-heart’s companion, forsaking him once battle eased and peace took the fore. It seems to split him in two, the sudden frustrating pain of it, that he is grieving, has been grieving ever since he heard the sound of shattering glass and he does not know how long he will continue to do so.

Link is no longer Link of Ordon Village.  He is no longer Midna’s companion. He is no longer the wolf. He doesn’t know what he is anymore.

The weight of his silence continues long enough to make Fado frown. “Hey Link, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just worried about you is all.”  He shrugs. “Changing isn’t always a bad thing.”

Maybe, but Link has been fighting to go back to who he was when he was happy, and the world was a simple place. It hurts to realize that he has failed, that it was a fruitless effort from the start. Of course he changed, he’s not the same Link who left with a wooden sword in the hope he could make a difference.

Realizing that he still hasn’t said anything, what could he say, his tongue is light with their absence, he manages a smile. It’s weak and Link knows it, but he can’t manage anything more. Not when the world he was fighting to cling to was never really in his grasp to start with. “It’s okay, Fado, I know you mean well. I’ve been distracted lately. I’m fine, I promise.” He nudges Epona with his heel before Fado can say anything else. Link has had his fill of words for the time being.

If Fado tries to call out to him it is lost beneath the steady gallop of Epona’s hooves on the soft earth. Link sinks his fingers into her mane, trying to hold fast to something when it feels like his world has begun to slip sideways.

The sun has barely finished setting when he returns home. The small clearing is quiet and still, still carrying a faded echo of the sun’s warmth. With quick fingers he divests Epona of her tack and saddle and leaves it hanging on the post he’d set into the ground for that very purpose. She whickers in the spreading gloom and begins to graze on what little grass is left.

Link watches her for a time. In the quiet and the slowly deepening chill he finds something close to peace. For a life that was once filled with simple pleasures and small tasks, it feels as if he cannot stop striving from one thing to the next. Looking for each quiet moment where he can breathe and can forget, if only for the moment, what he is trying to reach for.

He has developed a habit of sorts since his return, an itch between his shoulder blades that will not be soothed, not until he walks the length of the village and back. Making sure all is well and that everyone is safe, tucked away in their houses and that the monsters have not once more come to call. The urge is there now, but this time Link ignores it. Sometimes he will run into Rusl, who patrols for his own demons and Link doesn’t have it in him right now to try and fail to find the right words.

Rusl has proven to be a blessing on nights like tonight, but other times, it is obvious that he does not truly understand what it is Link is struggling with.

So he turns away and climbs up into his house, his one last refuge against a world that has not stopped changing. He builds up the fire and throws together a basic stew with some of the supplies that Uli and Sera had been kind enough to bring him with his return. He is beginning to run low and will have to start gathering new ones. He could go to Sera or Uli, but with the village’s recent refusal to let him support himself, he is hesitant to do so. He’s always managed to care for himself, that hasn’t changed.

Once his belly is full and the warmth of the fire has filled the room Link finally succumbs to the low mood he has been in since leaving the ranch and crawls into bed. It is still early by his usual standards and normally he would tackle basic chores, making sure he had clean clothes and that he had enough food for tomorrow’s meal. Small tasks that right now, feel utterly beyond him.

So he crawls into bed and beneath the soft weight of his blanket and the familiar give of his pillow he closes his eyes and does his best to stop thinking. He doesn’t know what to do, the confusion making his stomach roil with nerves and something desperate that feels like the wolf. So he closes his eyes and measures each breath, trying to clear his mind and let everything else fall away. He doesn’t need to figure it out right now, he’s got time, so right now he is going to block out the world and just let the warm wave of sleep take him under…

*~*~*

_He is in the Twilight Realm. The light is dim and faded, there only to make the shadows darker. Everything is cold, a deeper bite than winter was capable of, filled with old magic and hate that has long since faded into memory only, softened into ‘what was’ rather than ‘what is’._

_He’s looking for Midna. On wolf’s paws he runs over stone that was shaped from will and the destroyed remnants of a society where magic ran as thick as blood. With his wolf’s nose he can smell it, acrid and sharp, even faded. There is the music of shadows in the distance and thrumming in the center of his bones. This world sings to him now, as it did then, and Midna had stared at him with her bright, hungry imp’s eyes._

_“You can hear it.”_

_Link jerks to a stop, spins on four paws until his tail whips around but he still can’t see Midna. She’s close, he can smell her, the crackle of spent magic and the cold acid chill of Twili. He throws his head back and howls, a song to call to the wolf-heart that he knows beats in the little imp’s chest and stares out at him from behind a woman’s eyes._

_Her hands sink into the thick fur at his ruff and Link can only sag into her hold, iron hard and as implacable as stone, as a royal who will not be denied._

_“You hear the song,” she says, the woman’s whisper rather than the imp’s cackling laughter. “My divine beast, so strong and fierce. I loved you, you know. How could I not with your wolf’s heart and your warrior’s courage.”_

_He tries to turn, he needs to see her, but her grip does not ease. Instead Link feels the weight of her along his back. She is cold even through the thick pelt of his wolf’s body. It sinks through him, an almost pain that is easy to ignore. Midna is here, he found her, and now all he has to do is keep her this time._

_Over the distant and oh so close music of the Twilight Realm there is a voice. “Shadow and light are two sides of the same coin...one cannot exist without the other.”_

_Link whines, that was the princess’ voice, what she said before Midna shattered the mirror and broke his heart, leaving him all alone in a world that had changed for all it stayed the same._

_Midna laughs and she is the woman but it is the imp’s laugh, wild and cold and angry. “Two sides of the same coin, together, but always apart. Yes, isn’t that the way.” Link tries to turn again, needs to see her with his own eyes, but she holds him still and then her cheek is pressed against his furred one. “I would have kept you, if I could. But you are Chosen, and I’m not strong enough to stand against a fate such as yours.”_

_Midna releases her grip on his fur and Link is falling. The music fades into nothing and the Twilight Realm vanishes in a swirl of movement that shifts into dark clouds. He stands on a mirror of still water, dark clouds rolling all around him. He twists his wrist and the weight of the sword in his hand is familiar as his own heart-beat, the pulse of power that settles like a brand on the back of his right hand._

_A monster rises up before him, Ganondorf and yet not, something monstrous and old with primal fury and a yearning for destruction that Link cannot help but bare his teeth against._

_“ My hate... never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end! I will rise again. Those like you... Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero... They are eternally bound to this curse.”_

_The voice is deep and thundering, an eagle’s shriek and the ground shredding fury of an earthquake rising from the depths. There is laughter, hungry and waiting, knowing it need only bide it’s time until its prey comes within reach. “Over and over and over and over…..”_

_Link brings his sword up with a fierce shout, “You are the one who is cursed, to fight a battle that you will never win. Every time you rise I will be there, and I will send you back where you came from!” With every ounce of strength he can muster Link swings the Master Sword, and slams it into the pedestal, where it - she - will wait for him to return once again._

_“I would have kept you, if I could.”_

*~*~*

Link lurches awake with a strangled gasp. Blind from sleep and his face wet with tears he rips at the tangled sheets that wrapped around him sometime in the night. The longer it takes the more frantic he feels, the blanket twisting endlessly around his hips and legs. His sobs are shaking out of him by the time he gets free enough to roll out of the bed. All of his hard earned finesse is nowhere to be seen as he lands in half-crouch only to topple back onto his rear-end.

He stays on the floor. It is cool and a chill begins to work across his back where he sweat through his sleeping tunic. Everything is muddled and confusing, half of his mind still in the dream that had spun reality with fantasy. He glances towards the door, still locked and secured from the inside, and when had he ever needed to check that before everything that happened? Who was going to try and come into his home?

Possessing a keen awareness of time that traveling with Midna had only honed, Link knows it is too early to be true morning. The barest thread of light can be seen through his high window. Just enough to illuminate the center of the room and leave everything else shrouded in darkness.

Still trembling, Link wipes his face on his bedding and then just presses his face into the blanket and takes deep, even breaths. They shake out of him and a few more wrenching sobs slip by before he masters himself. When the floor becomes too cold and his shivers have progressed into actual teeth chattering Link pushes off the floor to climb back into the bed.

With one knee braced on the thin mattress he stops. It strikes him like a blow, realizing that he wants to go get the sword, his sword, out from the chest he’d stowed it away. There was no enemy to fight and yet he wanted the familiar weight of it in his hand, to feel the smooth hilt against his palm while he tried to drift off to sleep.

Before he can talk himself out of it Link scrambles up the ladder to the small loft and throws open the chest there. It had been a coming of age gift from Uli and Rusl, the outside carved with intricate swirls and across the lid was the sigil of Ordon Village, the eternal circle of the spirit Ordona’s great horns. Link hadn’t wanted to see the sword, but he’d still wanted it close, hence sticking it in the chest up on the loft where he could see the chest every day and know what was inside it, rather than down in the basement. Link had been loathe to leave the Master Sword in the dark.

Link’s breath catches when he sees it. It was resting on top of the blankets he’d stored inside, and he was suddenly horrified. This blade with its winged cross guard and the gleaming topaz, it didn’t belong in his chest to collect dust. And yet, it did not belong with him either. It was the blade of the Chosen, and Link might have claimed the title for a time, but it wasn’t his anymore.

He lifts the blade out of the chest and even knowing that it doesn’t belong with him, even if his dreams say differently, the hilt fitting in his hand as if it had been made for him, or maybe he had been made for it, he feels the weight of it in his hand and peace slides over him. He is armed and he knows this sword awake and in his dreams. The only thing that is missing is….

Midna.

Link presses the heel of his hand hard against the curve of his nose, using the odd pressure to fight the burn of more tears, the clawing, living thing in his chest that wants out but he doesn’t know how. No longer the farm boy, a hero without a quest, he doesn’t know what to do. One hand clenched in his sleeping tunic over his chest, Link lifts the Master Sword, the naked blade shining even in the dim light.

Well, maybe he does know one thing he can do.  

Rusl had been in awe of the blade when he’d first seen it. He had not asked to hold it however, and Link had not offered. Rusl had insisted that he keep it, clapping him on the shoulder and promising him that as long as he took care of it, it would never let him down.

Link looks at the blade now, its sharp edges and the groove that dipped into shadow. Everything in him aches as if he had just fought a ferocious battle, and his grip on the hilt is solid and strong, as if to stall a fatal plunge. It is an anchor, it held him steady when battle after battle crashed over him, driving back the darkness that would try to overwhelm the light he fought so hard to save.

The Blade of Evil’s Bane.

The Master Sword.

It is an anchor and it holds him to a duty that he has fulfilled. It hurts and he clenches his hand tighter around the hilt at the thought, but it is time to set it aside. They, the both of them, have fought their battles and it is time to rest.

The Twilight Realm, Midna, they are gone and they are never coming back. Link closes his eyes against it, presses his hand against his mouth as if that will hold back the small sounds he cannot swallow back. He shakes and half chokes on the small sobs he tries and fails to hold back, but the hand that holds the sword remains steady, as if made of stone. He takes a breath and looks down at the sword, once a sign of being Chosen, and now everything he has accomplished made manifest, and everything he must now let go.

He wishes he could turn into the wolf one more time and let loose the howl he can feel deep inside, a cry of loneliness and heartbreak and defiance. But it is not to be. So instead he will return the sword to the ancient temple and set it all behind him; Midna and the hero who was also a wolf.

Once his decision is made everything moves quickly. He gets dressed and grabs the small pack he’d used before. Stuffing it with the rest of the travel food he hadn’t gotten around to tossing yet, Link hesitates next to where the Ordan sword was resting against the wall. He’d forgotten about it until now, easy to miss against the thrumming presence of the Master Sword. After a moment of hesitation where he fights himself, he picks it up and straps it low across his back.

That he also includes the bow and quiver is just another sign of how different he has become. He’s traveling into the next territory over and treating it as if he were about to journey across the breadth of Hyrule. By the time Link exits the house he is desperate to get moving, to get this over with now that he’s decided.

He leaps down from the porch with almost palpable relief. Epona makes a soft nicker of greeting but does not stop her morning graze. Link pauses, considering. It’s not that far away and could easily walk the distance and be back by no later than tomorrow. Yet he is reluctant to leave the horse behind. His debate is made moot when Epona looks up and canters over to nudge at him before going over to stand next to the post where her saddle and bridle are hanging. The look she gives him might as well be a spoken ‘well hurry up, let’s get going already’.

Relieved that he is not going by himself Link quickly gets Epona kitted out and hops up on her back. She starts moving before Link gets a grip on the reins and he ends up fisting a hand in her mane, so grateful for her presence and spirit, anything he tried to say would fall short. He lets her have her head as she gallops down the trail towards Faron Woods. He almost pulls on the reins to go back towards the village, surely he should tell someone what he was doing. If they tried to visit him and he wasn’t there he didn’t want them to be concerned.

He does not pull Epona around. It’s not as if he will be gone long, and it’s still too early for anyone to be up and about.

They approach Ordon Spring and it strikes Link that the last time he saw the spirit was when all the spirits of Hyrule came together to heal Midna. Impulse has him guiding Epona towards the gates that protect the spring from casual interference. Once in a great while a Hylian would make the pilgrimage out to Ordon to pay their respects to one of the Light Spirits who guarded Hyrule. The stories always claimed that the Spirits only showed themselves to those they deemed worthy.

That he has personally spoken with all four is unsettling.

The gates are open, which is not strange, but Link still feels uneasy as he guides Epona forward. He slides off of Epona’s back and reaches up to rest his hand on the hilt of the Master Sword. It is quiet with the gentle movements of the water and the fragile thread of sound that is Ordona’s song. His wariness fades as the gentle melody proves that Ordona is very much present, he remembers the sound of a distressed Spirit, their beautiful songs turning into tragic laments. If something were wrong, he thinks she would have warned him.

There is the scuff of a footfall behind him. “Link?”

Link whirls around and the Master Sword is in his hand. He blanches when he sees Ilia in a half-crouch as if in the middle of standing up. She was tucked near the entrance out of sight of anyone who passed by. She’s watching him with wide eyes and open mouth, her gaze flicking between Link’s face and the sword in his hand. He takes in the stiff line of her shoulders, the set of her feet on the loose ground and the confusion in her eyes.

She is not afraid of him, just startled, but that does not stop Link from reeling back, almost sick with guilt. He doesn’t even remember drawing the sword. “Ilia, I’m sorry - I didn’t know -” the words are rough and disjointed, tripping off his tongue as fast as he can say them.

“It’s okay,” Ilia says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She waves a hand to encompass where he is standing. He can see the brief flicker of her expression when she notices the traces of tears on his face. “It’s so peaceful here,” she says as if admitting something. “Lately I’ve been coming here when I can’t sleep.” She looks towards the water. “Sometimes I imagine I can feel Spirit Ordona’s presence keeping me company.”

Link doesn’t think he imagines the brief swell in the spirit’s gentle chimes as they fill the small grotto. He’s trying to decide if he should ask if she can hear the spirit as well or if he should mention that he thinks Ordona does enjoy Ilia’s company, when she says, “I don’t know if you came here to be alone, but you can talk to me, if you want.” She smiles at him, sweet yet wry, acknowledging that something was wrong without trapping him into speaking about it.

Her smile is what decides him. She has been different since her kidnapping, and if there was anyone who would understand what he has been struggling with, he knows its Ilia. And yet, he is reluctant to speak of it. Renado was never able to fully explain the source of her amnesia, and Ilia hasn’t brought it up with him. Ilia had said she does not always sleep well. Link is reluctant to share his night terrors without knowing what haunts her own.

In spite of his misgivings he cannot turn away from that smile. He nods and gestures to a spot of ground near the water’s edge. It is covered in soft grass and will let them avoid the worst of the damp earth. They both sit down and then silence falls with only the gentle chime of Ordona’s presence filling the air. Link struggles not to fidget at first, but the longer they sit quietly the more he relaxes.

What starts out as an awkward silence as Link expects Ilia to ask questions or wait for him to ask gradually deepens into something comfortable with the soft chirp of insects and the first songs trilling through the trees as the birds wake up. Ordona’s soft chimes help as well and for the first time since shuddering away beneath the weight of his nightmares, Link starts to breathe easier.

“You didn’t listen to me.” The words are soft and Link isn’t sure Ilia has actually spoken until he turns to find her looking right at him. “Here,” Ilia gestures at the surrounding spring, “before we were attacked.” She sucks in a soft breath, a soft sound of distress that leaves Link frozen in place. “I asked you not to do anything too out of your league. And you went and saved all of Hyrule.”

Link stares at her. He does remember her asking him to promise to come back safe, but it is a faded memory, subsumed by everything that came after. The fear and determination to get them back, even knowing he might not survive the attempt. Getting dragged through the barrier into a world of shadow where everything burned, something dark and whispering trying to twist him into something _other_. The pain of that first transformation into the wolf had burned, a sharp brutal agony that went beyond the physical. A twisting of self into a reflection that had always been lurking beneath the surface, waiting until it was needed.

“I came back,” is all Link can think to say.

Ilia blink’s at him, then smiles and shakes her head. She looks out at the spring with a huff that deepens into a sigh. Her fingers curl around a long piece of grass sticking up out of the ground. “You made sure we all did. I don’t know what you did exactly, I don’t think anyone does,” she glances at him and Link can’t meet her gaze, has to look away, “but you saved all of Hyrule. So I guess it wasn’t out of your league after all. You’re a hero, Link.”

Link flinches and knows there is no way Ilia missed it. “I did what I had to,” is all he can say around a tongue that has grown thick in his mouth, utterly useless. She’s not wrong, only Midna knows the whole of everything he faced in order to save Hyrule, not even Princess Zelda knows everything. How is he supposed to put all that into words? To break down the terror and the thrill of pitting himself against an enemy and coming out on top, over and over again.

“I don’t remember much of what happened after the initial attack, when the Bulbins attacked us here.” Ilia’s continues to twist the piece of grass around her fingers. Every word is flat leaving her mouth, as if she has hammered all the remembered fear and pain out of them. “I remember pain and falling, and being terrified. Everything else is...a blur,” she admits. “I don’t remember how I ended up at the Hidden Village or much of my escape. To be honest I don’t think I want to remember. I know I saw terrible things and had been hurt badly. I think the only way I could get through it all was to forget.”

She takes a breath as if to brace herself, and a sixth sense prickles along the back of Link’s neck. Anticipation is a slow growing knot in his gut and he knows, deep down the same way he knows the sword is his and the wolf is still very much beneath the surface, that he doesn’t want to hear what is coming. It is not bravery that makes him hold his ground, but curiosity.

“I’m not the same.” Ilia takes a deep breath, nothing like the panic from before, and lets it out slowly. Her shoulders slowly sink down with the motion as if some invisible strain has loosened. ”I was sheltered here, and then my world was shattered. I saw what the world could be like beyond our village and it was terrifying.”  She sighs. “I’d often thought of leaving the village, but now, the thought of leaving scares me.”

Ilia pulls her knees up to her chest, her gaze resolutely fixed on the spring’s burbling waters. “I didn’t know what it was like to be so afraid,” she says quietly.

“You’re stronger than you know,” Link says. He glances at her when she stares at him. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. What matters is that it didn’t stop you when someone needed your help. You saved Prince Ralis’ life.”  

Ilia shakes her head with a damp chuckle, reaching up to wipe away the tears that started spilling down her cheeks. “It’s okay,” she says when Link freezes, fearing he’s said the wrong thing. “I’ve been crying a lot lately. But it helps to know I’m not the only one who came back different.”

The words are not meant as a blow, but they strike as one. Link doesn’t flinch, instead stares at the shifting waters hard. If he stares long enough he can almost make out little flickers of golden light that are a sign of Ordona’s presence. As the sun’s light grows strong enough to penetrate the thick tree cover those little sparks grow brighter, as if drawing strength from the warmth.

“It’s strange,” Ilia continues. “You talk a lot more than you used to, but at the same time, you’re quieter.  I don’t know how to explain it.” Some of his struggle must register since she makes a soft sound of distress and lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Link. It’s not a bad thing. We’re all different, the whole village. How could we not be?”

“I’m the same person I was before,” Link says, prompting Ilia to look at him.

This time her smile is sad and weary in a way that Link has never seen. But there’s affection there as well, and it makes his heart ache in his chest. “Neither of us are the same person we were before,” she points out, gently. “We both went out into the world and what we did, what we saw, it changed the both of us.” She hesitates, glancing at the spring and Link wonders if maybe she can hear the gentle chime of Ordona’s song. “I think you were always meant to be a hero, Link. Even if you had spent the whole of your life in Ordon Village, you would still have been capable of great things.”

Link feels a sudden surge of frustration that he bites back with effort. He wants to argue, to tell her he would have been happy herding goats for the rest of his life. But he can’t, his tongue held still by the fierce ache that is grief and wild love as he remembers racing across the fields of Hyrule in a wolf’s body, Midna perched on his back.

“You aren’t happy here,” Ilia continues, softer, as if aware now that she is treading across a still raw wound. “I’m not surprised to see that you’re leaving.”

Link blinks in surprise and realizes what it must look like, kitted out with supplies and Epona with her saddle and bridle when he normally leaves it off while working at the ranch. “I’m not leaving,” Link protests. He doesn’t know what to think if that’s what Ilia assumed. As if leaving was the obvious conclusion. “Why would I leave?”

He honestly hadn’t considered it, not really. Ordon is his home. Yet now that it’s been said, as if all he needed was to hear the idea spoken out loud, he wonders if he could do that. He pushes the thought aside. It’s ridiculous.

“I’m returning the sword,” he says. He slides the Master Sword off his back and lays it across his lap, the blade gleaming in the half-light of the spring. For a moment it seems as if the gentle chimes of Ordona’s presence thrum with the same energy he felt the day Ganondorf was vanquished. An answering twinge on the back of his hand has him flexing it in an absent gesture. “I was given this sword to defend Hyrule, and now that it’s safe, I need to return it.”

“I see,” Ilia says, and when Link meets her eyes he doesn’t know what to make of her expression. Amusement and affection, and a little bit of sorrow. “I want you to be happy, Link. If that means you leave for a while or choose to never come back, I want you to know that I understand.”

Without thinking he reaches out and puts his hand on hers. They both startle and Link immediately fights down a blush as he struggles to meet her eyes. “Ilia, I’m coming back.”

Ilia doesn’t respond right away and Link is searching for the right words, the ones that will banish his own doubt as well as hers, when she gives a sharp nod. “Okay, I believe you.” Then she twists her hand under his so she is holding him back, fingers clenching hard enough that his hand will start to ache soon. She levels him with a look of grim determination. “But I want you to make me a promise.”

Link shivers at the parallel of the last time they’d been here and Ilia had asked him to make her a promise. Link nods for her to continue, silently swearing that no matter what she asks of him, he is going to make it happen.

“Promise me that you will do whatever it takes to be happy. No matter what that means.”

He stares at Ilia with her fierce expression, with her hand clenching around his hard enough to bruise. “I promise,” he says, and for a moment there is a flicker of light behind Ilia, as if Ordona was acting as a witness. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be happy.”

Ilia lets go of his hand with a flush, as if just realizing what she was doing. “Good,” she says. “I’ll hold you to that.”  

*~*~*

Link doesn’t linger after he makes his promise. Everything Ilia said resonates through him, as if he were a struck bell and the note continues to travel through his bones. His head is spinning with everything she said, and everything she didn’t, all there to see in solemn weight of her gaze and the careful smiles.

Ilia has changed from the girl he used to know. She admitted it out loud and while it had seemed to hurt her to say it, she had also seemed to claim it as a type of triumph. She survived and thus she changed, discovering something she had all along.

Is that what happened to him?

He leads Epona out of the small clearing and leaves the cheerful chuckle of water and Ilia’s watchful gaze behind. He tenses and leaps up onto Epona’s saddle, something that never used to be this easy. Turning around he waves goodbye but bites back the repeated assurance that he will do as he promised. She’d believed him, there was no need to say it again.

With a gentle kick he spurs Epona into movement and it is easy to sink into the familiar motion of Epona’s gallop. It is as familiar as breathing, the beat of his heart, the rhythm of her hooves striking the ground, the sway of her body beneath him. He barely uses the reins to direct her. Instead he relies on quick taps with his heels and leaning side to side. He misses the ability to speak with her directly, just another aspect of being the wolf that had proven convenient. She has been his constant companion for years and it was a true pleasure to be able to speak and understand her in truth.

Faron Bridge is sturdy as ever although Link can’t help but eye the supporting ropes with a careful eye. He eases Epona into a careful trot as they cross the bridge, there was no sense in being reckless, not when there was no rush. The bridge does not sway beneath them, nor does it creak at various intervals. He wonders if someone from Ordon Village had touched it up, possibly wanted to make sure the bridge was still intact so their children could return home.

There were other routes to Ordon Village, but none other was nearly so direct. It was the only foolproof way to get any supplies in or out by wagon.

Link does his best not to think, but it is difficult. His thoughts keep spinning through what Ilia said, her admission that she thinks he hasn’t been all that happy. It takes him by surprise, but she is not necessarily wrong. He misses Midna desperately. She made it all right to be the wolf and the Chosen Hero, someone she needed to fight back the invading armies of her people. He trained and he fought, refusing to stay down when he knew every blow he parried brought them one step closer to victory.

Epona gallops past the Faron Spring, where Link can just make out the gentle chime of Faron’s dormant presence. Link pushes Epona onwards, he does not know if he can handle anymore fraught conversations, the one with Ilia was bad enough. He does make a note to stop by the spring on the way back home. He could have saved Hyrule without them, and he had no idea of knowing if MIdna would have been able to break the curse on her own with Ganondorf dead.

It bears thinking about.

Link decides to leave Epona in the small clearing where Coro’s hut is situated. From here on out its going to be almost impossible for a horse to get through all the way to the Temple of Time. He makes sure there’s plenty of grazing and that Coro has some water nearby before heading deeper into North Faron Woods.

It is surreal to pass back this way after everything else. This time he’s not here to rescue a willful child and equally willful girl-monkey, nor is he searching for a way to break the curse Zant pressed upon him. It’s all the same, the miasma thick air that leaves him nauseous and woozy when he spends too long breathing it in. He climbs the trees when he is able, once more lamenting the loss of his wolf form’s acrobatic skills. It’s slow going as a human rather than a wolf with a teleporting imp along for the show.

At least this time there are no cantankerous Bulblins lurking about, hoping for a victim to bash half to death. When he reaches the entrance to the Forest Temple, Link pauses for a moment to dig into his satchel. He pulled out the Gale Boomerang and hefted it. He knew there was a spirit ‘trapped’ inside, well maybe trapped wasn’t the right word.

It didn’t thrum or hum in his grip the way the master sword did, but it was clearly influenced by the spirit that had claimed the boomerang shape for its own.  

Without a wolf’s body or Midna’s over all assistance (even if that help had come in the form of yelling about left) it was very slow going. So many things seemed out of reach now, he had to look for ways up and over that a regular human would be able to climb, rather than a wolf. He had to use the boomerang to get past the spinning bridges, the ravine deadly quiet as the wind proved just as contrary the first time, directed only by the power of the boomerang.  

It is not his imagination that the sword starts to feel, not heavier, but more present the deeper into the Temple of Time he travels. He leaves it on his back, but his hand itches to grab the hilt when they enter the too similar chambers he’d been lead a merry chase through. Link didn’t see any sign of the little forest creature with its horn and terrifying giggle, but that didn’t mean much, as Link had been forced to learn.

Mayhaps it had moved on after its defeat, he and Midna had not necessarily been gentle during the fight. With him trapped in a wolf’s body and with Midna grieving over Princess Zelda’s sacrifice in order to save her, no, neither of them had been in a merciful kind of mood.

Passing through the Sacred Grove the second time around is much easier than the first. None of the traps he passed through the first time are active, and something in the air has changed as well. Before there was a sense of lingering power, as if the very walls were shifting to deny him.

Or perhaps to test him. Now the air is empty and with each step the Master Sword seems to grow larger, drawing more and more of his attention. If he were a wolf he would have started growling, his non-existent mane of fur lifting in wary appreciation.  Something about this place called to the Master Sword, and to him as well.

Being here again brings with it a sense of deja-vu, but the echo goes deeper than mere memory. There is a resonance to this place, with its ancient walls and the light streaming through time battered ruins. It is familiar and yet...entirely new. The back of his hand tingles and he once again conquers the impulse to reach for the Master Sword strapped next to his spine.

Time is flexible here, he knows, having experienced it himself. But the sense he gets from the place puts him in mind of the strange dreams he has been having. Battles he knows he has never fought and enemies he does not recognize, but there is always the sword. This grove has the same air of familiarity. The impressions he has of this place; _ancient, defiance, hope…_ they go deeper than mere memory.

It makes him quicken his pace as he approaches the room where the iron guardians stood guard over the last puzzle, the last line of defense before the Master Sword could be claimed. Meant for others, but not for him, comes the thought with a frown hard on its heels. Link shakes his head. Without the familiar weight of Midna on his back or her sharp words rising from his shadow, he feels adrift in this place, unmoored from time and memory.

How long has this place lain dormant? Holding Evil’s Bane at its heart, waiting for danger to come for Hyrule. He hops across the platforms and the iron guardians remain as statues, no sign of the life they once emulated. He is still wary as he goes around them, remembering all too clearly the way the ground trembled after every jump. Quick reflexes had kept him from being crushed, but it had been close far too many times for comfort.

The clearing is filled with sunlight. It streaks through the encompassing trees with their woven branches, the morning still carrying the faint remnant of night’s chill. There is no sound beyond the soft scrape of his boots on the moss covered stone. No bird song fills the air or even the faint rustle of small creatures in the nearby trees. As if no living creature dares to disturb the silence that fills the clearing, time and memory allowing no trespass.

Link approaches the pedestal slowly, all of his earlier anxiety and eagerness gone beneath the quiet peace of this clearing, and the new-familiar weight of the sword across his back. His chest aches and it is an old wound he realizes, blinking at the pedestal that sits empty in a pool of sunlight, warm and glittering with promise. Letting go always hurts, parting is never easy. He steps up onto the stone and his arm moves without thought, reaching up to lift the Master Sword off his back. It’s weight in his hand is treasured, familiar, brand new.

The topaz glimmers with light, the metal of the blade gleaming like a star across his hands. The silence is heavy and thick around him, and yet Link can hear the soft drifting tones of plucked harp strings and the clear bright notes of an ocarina. He holds the Master Sword in his hand, the Sword of the Goddess he knows, as if that knowledge has always been there, and he must let it go.

It has served its purpose and it is time for it to sleep once more. Link rubs a thumb over the topaz and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Sleeping, always sleeping, until the evil rises once more and the blade must be forged anew.

Link does not understand the trail of his own thoughts and his head feels full in this giant, aching silence. He is aware of Midna’s absence like a wound that will not heal and he misses her, bright yellow red eyes and a laugh that would chill the spine, he was hers for as long as she needed him. Now she is gone and the sword must be returned, a wolf with no pack and a battle that will never end in his heart.

He will have to wait until the next time, he thinks, absently hefting the Master Sword up, the light sliding down the glittering blade and the great wings of the cross-guard. The sign of the royal house and the Goddess they serve, who created this blade for her Chosen Hero to wield, time and time again as their ancient foe continues to follow his dark nature.

“Until the next time, Fi,” Link says, lips moving without thought and light moves across the blade as he slides it down into the pedestal. There is an audible click as the blade sinks home and Link steps back, shaking his head as the world seems to tilt beneath his feet. The birds sing in the distance and the light that manages to break through the trees is warm across his face and shoulders.

Link takes another step back and stares at the Master Sword, once more in its pedestal and feels as if he has forgotten something.

*~*~*

Staring at the sword with the sunlight slowly warming the air, Link is somewhat at a loss. He isn’t sure what his next step should be. With the sword returned to the Pedestal of Time his task, short-lived as it was, is complete. What else is there for him to do? He can go back to Ordon Village and tend to the goats, hunting when the desire for something other than goat meat seizes him, letting time soothe the battle edge from his mind and heart.

With one last look at the sword, it seems dimmer now, as if it were sleeping now that it has been returned to the stone, he leaves the small clearing. He traces his steps, walking the same path he’d taken in. It occurs to him as he is walking that he does not actually feel better. At some point he’d decided that if he returned the Master Sword to the temple he would somehow stop being the hero that was destined to wield it.

Without the sword and without Midna hiding in his shadow, he could go back to being Link from Ordon Village, the goat-herder.  Instead he feels worse, bereft and set adrift when his plan didn’t work, half thought out as it had been. What exactly had he been expecting?

It takes half a day to work his way back through the Sacred Grove and the Forest Temple. At a distance he spots one of the monkeys he had rescued the first time he’d come. One of the males, it waves at him before darting back into the trees, barely giving Link time to wave back. He ignores Trill’s calls to refill his lantern oil or red potion, he hasn’t even seen his lantern since coming back to Ordon. As of late the nights haven’t been dark enough to need it.

Coro is up and about when Link returns to the clearing. The man stares at him with wide eyes, gaze darting to where Epona is grazing with casual flicks of her tail. “I thought that horse looked familiar. You heading out for another adventure?”

Link shakes his head, ignoring the way his stomach drops. “No, just running an errand.”

“Ah, is that so?” Coro scratches at the back of his head, avoiding the nest on his head out of habit or care. “You sure? Took you for the monster hunting type after you put paid to all those things in the Temple. Haven’t seen any of the monkeys looking that happy for ages.”

“I did what I had to,” Link assures him. Midna had explained to him in no uncertain terms what would have happened if the Fused Shadow had been allowed to continue to spread its dark influence. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

Coro shrugs, not at all worried by Link’s rebuff. “Too bad. From what I hear the world’s been in a bit of a mess ever since everyone had that same nightmare.” He shudders and the bird perched on his shoulder gives an imperious cheep before hopping up to check on its nest. “Worst thing I’d ever experienced let me tell you. It felt like the sun would never come back.”

Link can remember the spirits he had passed while moving through territory swallowed by the Twilight Realm. They’d all been babbling and terrified, with none of them truly understanding what was happening. “A nightmare?” he asks. “Everyone had the same nightmare?”

“I don’t know if it was a nightmare or something worse,” Coro says with a shrug. “It was weird and terrifying.  Worse than the monkeys when they get cross about something that’s for sure.” He gestures at the jar of lantern oil set to warm over a small fire. “Well if you do decide to extend your skills from the temple to the rest of Hyrule, you’re gonna need a light.  I’m your guy if you run out of lantern oil okay?”

“Of course,” Link murmurs. He blows a short, two-fingered whistle that has Epona lifting her head with a snort, ears pricked forward. “C’mere girl,” he calls and Epona trots over. She seems in good humor, no doubt due to the hours of uninterrupted grazing. He leaps up into the saddle and starts guiding her back towards Ordon Village.

Sudden impulse has him tugging her to a halt immediately after and Link stares down the path, his mind’s eye following the twists and curves back to Ordon Village. He asks himself again what he intends to do once he returns to the village. Herd goats and play with the village children, taking meals at Rusl and Uli’s house only to return to his small empty home with only the memories of all he’d done to keep him company.

He’d promised Ilia he would do what made him happy, but what did he know. He’s lost, stumbling through his days and clinging to anything familiar, as if that would help to settle the restless, angry thing living in his chest. It hurts to realize he doesn’t want to go back. The life he lived before feels too small for him now, for the wolf that lives under his skin and stares out from behind his eyes.

The dreams that fill his nights aren’t always nightmares. Every night he wakes up reaching for a sword with a catch in his throat, and it’s not always fear that has set his heart to racing. He knows the thrill of the hunt now, the wild dance of pitting your strength against another’s and seeing who comes out on top.

He doesn’t want to go back. The realization slides through him like a blade, leaving chill awareness in its wake, bringing to mind several occasions when he had not dodged quite fast enough and even Midna had been distracted at a critical moment. A slice across his chest, it had been cold steel and only countless seconds later had the fiery pain set in. It is the same now, his realization cutting a wound and waiting for the pain to come.

He was not going back. Not now, he thinks, remembering Ilia and Rusl’s family. They want him to be happy, just like Ilia promised. It shakes the breath out of him, the thought of leaving them behind after everything that has happened. But he won’t be needed, not truly. The village doesn’t know what to make of him, he is aware of that much, and it is most likely for the best. He can see it now, removed from the village and considering the outside world, that they were never going to let him be Link, the goat-herder again anyway.

Rusl with his sword training and discussions on tactics, Sera refusing to charge him for any of his supplies, claiming that heroes didn’t need to pay.  The way the villagers spoke quietly to one another when they thought he was out of ear shot, darting glances and careful silences.

Epona shakes her head, shifting her weight as Link continues to think. Heart pounding too fast at his neck and wrists, Link realizes he doesn’t even need to return to his house. Without thinking he had grabbed his bow and quiver, the Ordon Sword and his shield with the Hylian crest. His money pouch is tucked into one of Epona’s saddle bags with days worth of rations, and when had he decided to bring Epona’s saddlebags? He doesn’t remember putting them on, but there they are, the bulky weight of them pressing behind his legs.

As appalling as it is to realize he was so out of touch with his own actions, Link is relieved. With his decision made he does not want to return to his house or to Ordon Village. He doesn’t belong there anymore, he isn’t the man that everyone expects him to be. His dreams too often carry into daylight and he is always reaching for a weapon now, waiting, poised for the next battle the next enemy to step into reach.

With a click of his tongue, almost impossible with how dry his mouth has gotten, Link tugs on Epona’s reins and turns her around so they take the path leading out to the Southern Hyrule Field.

“Looks like you decided to see things for yourself.” Coro smiles up at him beneath the bobbing weight of his hair, the nest swaying gently. “Good luck out there.”

Link draws Epona to a halt and looks over his shoulder, back towards Ordon Village. He should say goodbye, at least try to explain what he is doing rather than vanishing one day as he had before. But Link knows the rest of the villagers won’t understand. Rusl might, but he has a family to ground him and give him a place to call home. Link has nothing, just an empty shadow and a wolf pressing up beneath his skin, a hero trying to remember how to live a normal life.

“Can you do me a favor?” Link says, turning to look down at where Coro is seated.

Coro studies him for a moment before shrugging. “Depends on what it is.”

“When they come looking for me, can you tell them that I had to take care of something.” Link smiles, a weak curve of his lips. “I’ll be back when I can, but it might take me awhile. Until then, I’ll do what I can to stay in touch.”

“I don’t see why you can’t bother to say goodbye, but sure, I can tell them.”

“I’m not very good with words,” Link admits. “I’d probably just say it all wrong.”  With a nod of thanks Link urges Epona forward and she gradually speeds into a slow gallop.

The relief as Ordon Village falls behind him is palpable. For the first time in weeks Link feels as if he can breathe easier. No longer hemmed in by memories and the expectations of the others to be who he used to be. He feels the wolf’s yearning, to go and to see, to throw his head back in song.

The Master Sword is gone, once more back in the Temple of Time to await the next Hero and Midna, the imp who was his guide and then companion is gone forever, returned to her world of Twilight. Now he needs to figure out who he is, a warrior with the heart of a wolf, no longer content with a small life of tending goats.

He was destined to be the Chosen Hero, as Midna and Zelda both told him. But now that his fate has come true, he must find where destiny ends and the rest of his life begins. Then maybe one day he can return to Ordon.  Until then, he will see where his wolf’s heart takes him.


End file.
